


like a ball and chain

by merycula (thanksillpass)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksillpass/pseuds/merycula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is forced to share an apartment with Kylo Ren, and he is not sure either him or the place can survive it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a ball and chain

Hux was admittedly more than a little bit drunk, but it was Friday night, and he was also more than a little unhappy with his life at the moment, so there really was no helping it. He was in his early thirties, working a dull job that currently only allowed him to rent a less than luxurious apartment from someone he'd long suspected to be a criminal, _and_ he recently got a new housemate who absolutely ruined his peaceful if boring life.

Kylo Ren – and exactly what kind of a name was _that?_ – was an aspiring musician, which already seemed like a lost cause to Hux, considering he was thirty. He wasn't paying enough attention when his suspicious landlord had introduced Kylo as some sort of a nephew or cousin, twice or thrice removed, but he certainly hoped that was the case, since he really didn't want to imagine old Snoke as a sugar daddy.

He and Phasma had a spare room they weren't using _or_ paying for, so Hux had technically no right to refuse, but after three months of living with Kylo Ren, he wished he had offered to pay extra just to avoid the disaster of having a temperamental man-child getting on his nerves on weekly basis. Kylo wasn't even _there_ that much, coming home after normal people went to work, and going out to abuse musical instruments in some moldy garage before anyone was back, and he still managed to drive Hux crazy.

“Don't get me wrong, Phasma,” he said pointedly. “I hate a lot of people. I am a hateful man. But I really _hate_ Kylo Ren.”

She nodded gravely, finishing her fifth beer while Hux was barely on his third, and Hux grimaced. Phasma was large and stoic, and had an uncanny ability to stay unfazed by all the things that vexed Hux, or most people for that matter. For over fifteen years that he's known her, he's never heard her raise her voice, or seen her use her physical strength for anything other than boxing – she was in complete control of herself, which was something Hux appreciated immensely.

“He's out of line,” admitted Phasma. “But there's not much we can do about it. We need to adapt, General.”

“Stop calling me that,” muttered Hux automatically, dismissive. “I don't get what's his deal. He's hardly the first man to experience failure, but you don't see everyone thrashing around _someone else's_ house, might I add, and inflicting severe property damage. And what's with his get up? Can you believe I haven't seen his face for the first six weeks? He was this... annoying _blur_ of black hooded clothes that only communicated with grunts. Now he's an annoying blur of black clothes and black hair, with a _exceptionally_ large nose, if you've noticed, who snaps at me whenever I have the audacity to ask him not to take out his frustration on the coffee table.”

Phasma smirked into her beer. “Artists. Did you talk to Snoke about this?”

“Of course. I told him I'm more than happy to keep sending him the bills for the damage, which is a _lie,_ mind you, I am not happy to do that at all, but that was the polite thing to say, and you know what he said? _'I shall speak with him.'_ That's it. Nothing's changed, of course, as I'm sure you're aware.”

Hux was absolutely miserable. He opened another beer can and took a generous swing before he could do something grossly petulant, like put his head in Phasma's lap and demand comfort in an unbecomingly whiny manner. He just felt so _powerless_ , unable to fight back and put Kylo Ren in his place, to do anything to change his situation, really, except maybe moving out, but he would rather die than abandon ship – no overgrown child who thought naming a band “Knights of Ren” was a good idea would drive Hux out from his crappy apartment.

“I was here first,” he mumbled to himself, immediately realizing how he sounded, even before Phasma snorted in amusement. “Oh God, he's already _infected_ me...”

Phasma chuckled good-naturedly, and patted him on the back, making his whole frame sway. “I think it's time for you to go to bed, General.”

“I told you not to call me that,” he groaned, letting Phasma help him up. “That was one time, and I was very drunk.”

“That was the funniest thing that had ever happened in my entire life,” she deadpanned with a straight face, only her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You can't expect me to let it go.”

Hux grunted in disdain, pointing a sharp finger in the general direction of Phasma's head. “See, your words indicate you're joking, but your- your face? Not so much. You need to work on that. It's confusing, even for me.”

Phasma only saluted him, and despite his protests, dragged him to his bedroom, unceremoniously shoving him onto the bed. He was _fine,_ obviously, as he wasn't that much of a lightweight, but he was exhausted., physically and mentally. The muffled sounds of Phasma ungracefully cleaning after their impromptu drinking session slowly lulled him to sleep, and he almost forgot why he was so tired to begin with.

* * *

When a loud bang from behind the wall woke him up seemingly mere minutes after he fell asleep, he remembered. At that moment, he envied Phasma two things: being a heavy sleeper, and occupying the room on the other side of the apartment, far away from Kylo's lair. Hux groaned, hiding his face in the pillow when he heard another crash, and another thud, and finally the inevitable sound of something breaking. Kylo Ren cursed, clearly not done with his tantrum yet, so Hux leaped out of bed to stop him before he destroyed anything else. He barged into the other room and hissed at Kylo to get his attention, shivering in discomfort as soon as Kylo's eyes landed on him.

There was always something unsettling about interacting with that man, especially during those emotional moments, anger and disappointment all but pouring from his odd face for everyone to see and take advantage of. Hux was no Phasma, but he was rather good at keeping his features schooled in order to hide his true emotions, and yet when Kylo looked at him, it was Hux who feel exposed, as if Kylo was trying to look inside his mind and, worst of all, succeeding. Hux had already learned that the suitable approach was distraction – redirecting Kylo's focus from Hux to himself again.

“I realize I might look slightly disheveled, but that's no reason to stare, Kylo Ren,” he gritted. “It's rude. Didn't you parents teach you any manners?”

The moment Hux's plan worked, he regretted it instantly. If Kylo seemed angry before, now he was furious, hatred and blood-thirst coming off of him in almost tangible waves. Hux wasn't exactly a coward, but he had a strong self-preservation instinct, so had Kylo moved then, even a centimeter, Hux would have flinched away on a reflex.

“Shut up,” hissed Kylo, eyes narrowing. “You know nothing about my parents. Never speak of them again.”

“Fine,” conceded Hux flippantly, hoping Kylo wouldn't notice his nervous swallow. “Is there a safe way of asking what on earth warranted this pathetic display?” He gestured at the remnants of Kylo's desk with one hand, and rubbed his eyes with the other. “Well? You might as well tell me, as you clearly don't have any solutions to your own problems, and I'm at the point where I'd do practically anything to get a good night sleep.”

Kylo regarded him silently for a moment, before grunting in defeat. “There's this girl.”

“A g-” Hux almost laughed, but he resisted the impulse in the last moment, and heaved a long-suffering sigh instead. “Straight people's problems... What is it then? Is she taken? Thinks your music is preposterous?”

Kylo's angry eyes snapped up to his face. “I couldn't care less about her _sexually,_ ” he seethed, disgusted. “I want her in my band. Rey has talent that is wasted on The Resistance. But she won't listen to reason. Won't _betray her friends._ Or whatever it is she said.”

Hux bit the inside of his cheek not to snort, or worse, laugh. Not only there was a band out there called “The Resistance,” but Kylo Ren was actually a child that threw a fit because he was denied a new shiny toy. That was certainly a difficult situation, as Kylo surely couldn't offer that mysterious talented girl fame and glory, for obvious reasons, and he definitely lacked proper social skills to be persuasive without seeming threatening. Hux wasn't going to tell him that, of course, but it was amusing enough just to think about it. Still, frustrated Kylo was destructive, and Hux couldn't have that, so the only reasonable course of action was to make him give up on the girl.

“Well then, I can't help you with that,” he said with a shrug, stifling a yawn. “I understand loyalty, provided it is profitable, so if it's as you say, and this girl would be better off with you, she is clearly beyond any reasoning. Find someone else and move on, or take your tantrums elsewhere.”

With that, he turned around and went back to his bedroom. He never actually said he would help, so when he heard Kylo Ren angrily call him useless before blowing one final punch to the wall separating their rooms, Hux didn't really feel guilty. In all honesty, he rather felt something of a perverse satisfaction, and he fell back asleep with a smile on his lips.

* * *

It soon turned out Hux enjoyed Kylo Ren's childish outbursts rather thoroughly, given that he was the cause for them. It was egoism, and sadism, and hedonism, as Hux discovered, and it greatly improved the standard of his life in those new, dire circumstances – once he started seeing Kylo as a possible source of entertainment, he had no difficulty exploiting that.

Hux was highly intelligent, well-organized, and his hobbies included politics, and manipulating others for his own gain. The latter involved a substantial level of people-reading skills, so once Hux decided to study his new subject, it wasn't long before he became something of an expert on Kylo Ren. Conclusion: the man was, in simple terms, a walking time bomb waiting to go off.

At first glance, he was aloof, almost dignified in his utter disdain for everything except his own cause, and had a rather impressive presence, at least when he was one of his more more contemplative, meditative moods. Underneath that, however, Kylo was short-tempered, unnecessarily violent and, frankly, quite dramatic. While driven and dedicated, he was also inflexible and proud, which was not a good combination in a conflict of any kind.

He was, surprisingly, a skilled musician. Hux was nothing if not thorough in his research, so observing his test subject in a natural habitat, that is watching a couple of YouTube videos, was unavoidable. The music Knights of Ren played was _dark_ , for lack of a better word – aggressive, and full of pain and anger. It wasn't too terrible, overall, even if it wasn't what Hux usually enjoyed, and it was strangely relatable (perhaps he had listened to more than a couple of songs).

He wasn't one to flatter freely, and Kylo Ren didn't need validation from the likes of Hux anyway, so he never offered a civilized conversation about Knights of Ren. He couldn't imagine himself casually inquiring about the upcoming Battle of the Bands, for instance, as it would involve admitting he actually read the flier he'd found under the couch before tossing it out. Instead, he once asked Kylo if he was ever going to invite them to one his concerts, making sure his tone contained the appropriate level of mockery. Kylo looked at him with an astounding mixture of disgusted shock and pity, refusing without missing a beat.

“Fair enough,” conceded Hux off-handedly. “Does Snoke come to your concerts?”

Kylo shrugged. “He has to. He's the manager.”

Hux's eyes widened in shock, but he filed that important piece of information for later, focusing instead on the stormy expression blooming on Kylo's face as soon as he realized he unintentionally revealed too much about himself. There was something almost innocent in the way Kylo Ren seemed self-conscious about inadvertently expressing emotions other than rage – fury was righteous and terrifying, and thus acceptable to display, but showing something like embarrassment was weakness.

“Your mind must be an awfully fascinating place,” he said out loud distractedly, surprising both of them, and cleared his throat, quickly composing himself. “I mean, Snoke as a band manager. Ludicrous idea. _”_

Predictably, Kylo's hands curled into fists, flexing at his sides as he fumed silently, and Hux concentrated on the pleasure he derived from knowing that Kylo Ren had to _control_ himself around Hux. Whether it was out of some semblance of respect for Hux, or a sense of obligation towards Snoke, the point was that Kylo Ren wanted to lash out, and never did _,_ leaving Hux unharmed, and free to test his limits, time and time again.

Of course, Kylo always made sure to retaliate, even if not deliberately, by testing Hux's patience in turn, but Hux had always adapted amazingly well. Besides, subjected to Kylo Ren's destructive presence for so long, both Hux – _and_ his apartment – had probably seen it all.

* * *

Nothing, however, could have prepared Hux for finding Kylo in the bathroom one evening, his face and shirt covered in blood, panting heavily as he uselessly stared at his reflection with disgust. When he caught sight of Hux in the mirror, he whipped around, his rage instantly focusing on him, as if seeing Kylo in a moment of weakness was a greater offense than actually bringing him to that state; Hux was deeply unimpressed.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Rey.”

Kylo's response was, as usual, delayed, monosyllabic, and utterly insufficient, leaving everything to Hux's imagination. It wasn't difficult to grasp the situation, though, even with the largely limited knowledge that Hux possessed. Failing to win Rey over with reason, Kylo possibly decided to resort to using force, and it escalated from there, no doubt. Maybe he grabbed her arm, yelled at her – it wasn't hard to imagine Kylo treating people like he dealt with offending inanimate objects – and she defended herself. There must have been actual fighting involved, because Kylo was ever so often rubbing his probably bruised side, wincing in pain; not to mention his face.

“She kicked your ass, didn't she?” asked Hux, half in delight, half in awe. “You've got beaten up by a college student who's probably thirty pounds soaking wet.”

Kylo was looking at him hatefully, nostrils flaring, but there was something in his face that indicated he was still waiting for Hux to finish, to deal the final blow. If he was expecting Hux to tease him for losing to a _girl,_ he was sorely mistaken, and obviously wasn't paying any attention to Hux's friendship with Phasma, or to the world in general, for that matter. He truly presented a pathetic sight.

“She really did a number on you,” muttered Hux, instinctively reaching out for Kylo's bloody face.

“What are you doing?” snapped Kylo suspiciously, jerking back.

Hux rolled his eyes, sighing. “Don't be a baby. Have you seen Phasma's nose? It only looks that good thanks to me.”

Hux could tell Kylo's impulse was to protest that particular description of Phasma's nose, but he actually stopped himself. He finally gave Hux a jerky nod to graciously grant him permission to _help,_ and Hux curtsied, wearing a nasty smirk. He could feel Kylo's wary gaze on him as he held the washcloth under the tap, so he held it up in front of his face before actually touching it, eyebrows raised in silent question, waiting for yet another jerky nod.

Touching Kylo's face for the first time was odd, as there was always something phantom-like about him, and now it felt like Hux was finally holding the proof of his existence in his hands. For a while, the only sounds filling the bathroom were their slow, steady breaths, almost obnoxious against the dead silence between them. Hux never really felt uncomfortable with silences, but it was becoming apparent that Kylo did, if his restless fidgeting was anything to go by.

“She had a knife.”

Hux didn't reply – stating the obvious rarely warranted any kind of intelligent response in his opinion. It amused him that Kylo Ren felt the need to explain himself to Hux, to justify his failure, even though he spent good amount of their time together convincing Hux he meant nothing to him. The idea of insecurities on its own wasn't laughable to Hux at all, even he had a fair share of those, but hiding them as unskillfully as Kylo did was simply comical.

“In this day and age, a girl's got to defend herself,” he said. “Just ask Phasma. Or don't. You're precisely the reason why perfectly nice girls like Rey carry knives.”

Seeing with corner of his eye how Kylo's jaw worked reflexively around the urge to push Hux away was insanely gratifying, and Hux was unable to hold back a lazy smirk as he inspected the now clean cut on Kylo's face. He smelled metallic, which wasn't all that odd, considering the blood, but also sort of fresh, like cold night air in some distant place, and Hux suddenly realized he'd never been this close to Kylo Ren before; it was less distasteful than he'd expected.

Feeling his breathing change for some unfathomable reason, he focused on dressing Kylo's wound – disinfecting it was really all he could do, but it was enough to satisfy his sadistic streak, as Kylo occasionally let out soft hisses of pain. The cut was quite shallow, and would probably not leave a prominent scar, but Kylo didn't have to know that.

“Maybe a scar will add you character.”

“I have plenty of character.”

Hux hummed noncommittally. “Do you? You seem rather one-dimensional to me. Then again, I don't know you that well. There, you're all done. Don't touch it, and you'll be fine.”

In that moment, Hux made a mistake of looking in Kylo's eyes, and his breath caught in his throat pathetically. There was something raw, almost vulnerable in his gaze as he looked at Hux quizzically, without the usual mistrust, as if he couldn't figure out the hidden agenda behind a simple act of kindness – maybe not many people offered Kylo that. Before Hux could dwell on the idea for too long, he cleared his throat awkwardly, and left the bathroom without a word.

* * *

Hux's schedule rarely matched Phasma's, so he tried making the best of the limited time they managed to spend together. The usual outcome of his carefully carried out plans was a night of heavy drinking, because neither of them was an especially fun person when sober. They were both particularly fond of a pub nearby their apartment, called “The Finalizer” – it was cold and impersonal enough not to attract many other regulars, which suited them just fine, as neither he nor Phasma were sufficiently sociable to deal with the same people on regular basis.

Phasma always turned heads wherever she went, always had. Hux suspected she was used to it, but never actually figured how she felt about it. On his part, Hux much preferred anonymity. He always thought he had one of those faces that people forgot as soon as they looked at it, and it didn't bother him in the slightest – on the contrary. Halfway through his third drink, he found himself wondering what other people thought of Kylo Ren's face.

“I personally think it's rather odd-looking,” he told Phasma, her seventh drink still untouched, thankfully. “Especially now, with that faint scar running across it. Do you think people who don't know it's there even see it? When did _you_ notice it?”

“When you pointed at his face and asked me to take a look at it,” replied Phasma flatly. “It wasn't your proudest moment.”

Hux shrugged. “You're my friend, I wanted to share that with you.”

“Of course. And it had nothing to do with how gleefully captivated you were when Kylo's face turned red.”

“What can I say, I thrive on other people's humiliation.”

Phasma chuckled. “That was _rage_ , General. He threw an orange at you.”

“Not _his_ proudest moment,” pointed out Hux, raising a finger authoritatively. “Also, don't call me that. And if you're suggesting I'm infatuated with Kylo Ren, and I've known you long enough to know you are, I want you to know you're wrong. We've been through all the possible cliches. I've walked in on him in the shower – he's not exactly _shredded,_ in my opinion. I've stumbled upon him sleeping, and he drools, if you must know. I've even seen him play that cursed red guitar of his, which is the biggest cliche of all. I am _fine._ By no means am I attracted to him. I'm not that desperate.”

He was, in fact, rather desperate. He was actually desperate enough to briefly consider taking a stranger home, before he remembered the wall separating his and Kylo's rooms seemed to be paper-thin, and he certainly didn't appreciate the idea of Kylo listening to him having sex. He missed sex, and blaming Kylo Ren for the lack of it in his life at the moment seemed like a fantastic concept, and he genuinely hoped Kylo wasn't having any either, for justice's sake.

“Besides, that Rey girl is all he thinks about,” he muttered, not sure why he brought that up.

Phasma stared at him. “Is this jealousy I hear?”

“It's _contempt_. He's obsessed. It's not good for him, ergo it's not good for my apartment. Which, coincidentally, is where you live as well. How does he not bother you? Especially now, when it's evident he's here to stay. It's been _months,_ Phasma. I'm surprised this place is still standing.”

He couldn't possibly have known how close to the truth his drunken mumbling had been, and suspicion hadn't entered his intoxicated mind even when they stumbled into the apartment a few hours later to find most of the lights on. It wasn't that unusual, and it certainly helped Hux navigate his way to his bedroom after he bid Phasma goodnight.

It wasn't until he was in bed, tossing and turning for a moment to find a position comfortable enough to sleep, eventually opting for lying on his side with his back to the window, when he finally noticed it – in the wall separating his room from Kylo's was a hole almost the size of his head. Hux kept blinking in dazed surprise, until his heavy with exhaustion and alcohol eyelids stayed closed for good, and sweet, merciful sleep claimed him at last.

* * *

After he reported the latest of Kylo Ren's mishaps to Snoke, Hux hadn't seen his disastrous housemate for quite a while, and he couldn't say for sure if he was being avoided, or if his landlord finally ordered Kylo to move out. The mystery was solved on one unremarkable day, when Hux came home after work to find Kylo Ren still, or already, there.

They exchanged nods, and Hux went straight to his room, not knowing how long the peace would last with Kylo in the house. On the rare occasions it had happened before, even seemingly innocent phone calls often ended in shouting and abusing furniture – it didn't take much to make Kylo Ren go off.

Two hours later, it was still suspiciously quiet, so Hux decided to check if Kylo hadn't simply sneaked out unnoticed; otherwise it might have been the calm before the storm. He barely prodded the poster hanging in the hole in the wall before it fell off easily, revealing Kylo Ren crouching over some sort of over-sized toy.

Curious, Hux stepped out, and seeing as the doors were open, he unceremoniously entered Kylo's room, getting a closer look at the strange thing. It didn't look overly technologically advanced – just a small metal ball on top of a bigger one, with an antenna, a few buttons, and blinking lights – but it did make some noise, and even seemed to move slightly in Hux's direction when he showed up.

“What is this robot doing here?”

Kylo startled, and Hux congratulated himself on catching him unaware. Kylo stood up, chest put out defensively, arms crossed, and glared at Hux, who mirrored his stance. He knew most of Kylo's mind tricks by now, and he was not going to be intimidated by someone who clearly had something shameful to hide; it worked, and Kylo eventually slumped his shoulders in defeat.

“It's a droid.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “What's this droid doing here?”

“I stole it. It belongs to The Resistance.”

Hux blinked in surprise. “Wait, the band you're competing against?”

When Kylo raised a curious eyebrow, Hux cleared his throat, putting his hands behind his back, and frowned to hide his embarrassment. He didn't mean to let Kylo know that he actually kept track, or remembered the stupid names of the stupid bands, because that did no one any good, especially Hux. Luckily, he wasn't the one who's actions were presently being questioned.

“You stole their robot? Sorry, their _droid._ Why?”

Kylo was silently staring at him for a moment. “They're nothing without it. They rely on a stupid beeping prop to stand out. I took away that prop.”

Hux smirked, unable to stop himself, because Kylo's explanation basically translated to “I couldn't get Rey, so I decided to sabotage her in the most childish way imaginable.” Hux wondered what Kylo was planning to do with the robot, because he certainly couldn't keep it in their apartment – he was without a doubt the prime suspect, if the stories of his inconspicuous pursuit of the girl was anything to go by.

“You're not much of an evil mastermind, are you? You must know this will be the first place they're going to look for it. I can't imagine Snoke being thrilled when police knocks on our door. Or were you planning on smashing it to pieces and feigning ignorance from the start?”

Kylo gritted his teeth. “Do _you_ have any brilliant ideas?”

“Are you actually asking for my help? If so, you're doing terribly.”

Hux couldn't wipe the triumphant smirk off his face, especially when the tips of Kylo's ears turned red, a petulant scowl on his face, as he refused to meet Hux's eyes, and it was almost... cute – if one had absolutely no taste whatsoever, and perhaps a brain damage to add to that. Hux crossed his arms on his chest expectantly, thrumming with anticipation. This was going to be oh so very good.

“Go to hell, I don't need you.”

Hux's face instantly fell – in his arrogance, he somehow did not see that coming, although he wasn't sure why. If anything, Kylo Ren was a self-absorbed loner, frighteningly determined and entirely independent, and it made absolutely no sense for Hux to be deluding himself into thinking they'd created some sort of a begrudging understanding over time. There was no heat behind Hux's jabs for a while now, and he secretly took interest in Kylo Ren beyond what he could use to vex him, but he apparently shouldn't have let his guard down.

“Very well then,” he snapped, shoulders squaring, and turned to leave. “As long as you get this piece of junk out of my house.”

* * *

Hux was good at many things, but being sick wasn't one of them. He hated feeling useless, and staying all day on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that was starting to smell, eating soup from a tin, and watching reruns of old sci-fi shows decidedly qualified as that, making Hux feel even more miserable. Worst of all, Kylo Ren was silently watching all that.

Hux mostly pretended to sleep until he was finally home alone, but the fact that Kylo left a glass of water on the table every time before leaving the apartment did not go unnoticed; Hux resented him for that. He couldn't figure out if it was power play, or misguided pity, but it certainly couldn't be genuine concern.

By the end of a truly agonizing week, Hux was able to walk without wanting to throw up, and was actually looking forward spending an afternoon at home. As soon as Kylo left, he texted Phasma, asking her to skip whatever she was doing, and watch television programs of questionable quality with him. While he waited for the reply, the comfortable silence surrounding him was suddenly disrupted by a scraping sound coming from behind the door.

The more closely he listened, the better he heard three separate voices outside, two male and one female, apparently arguing among each other, while ineptly trying to pick the lock on his door. Hux got up from the couch, not caring that he was wrapped in a smelly, spaceship-themed blanket, and slowly walked to the door, opening it abruptly. Three pairs of wide eyes stared at him in varying degrees of horror, as he towered over the kids in all his unimpressive glory.

All of them suddenly scrambled to get up, and Hux patiently waited for the intruders to compose themselves, as they obviously weren't running off. He realized who they were in an instant. The girl currently frowning at him in suspicion had to be Rey, as young and fearless as Hux had imagined. One of the boys held himself like a soldier, back straight and chin high, even as he was sweating nervously, and stepping behind the other boy, whose only noticeable feature was a brown leather jacket – Hux was clearly looking at The Resistance.

“Are you trying to break into my apartment?”

Soldier Boy tugged insistently at Brown Jacket's sleeve. “We are _so_ screwed, I _told_ you it was a bad idea, oh my _god,”_ he hissed, talking fast and frantic, as if Hux couldn't possibly hear him. “Poe, what are we going to do now, you said no one would be home! What are we going to _do?!”_

“Calm down, Finn,” the-boy-apparently-named-Poe whispered, his wary eyes not leaving Hux, even as he put his hand on the-boy-apparently-named-Finn's shoulder.

“We're here for our robot,” said Ray, confident and straightforward, eyes shining dangerously.

“Droid,” corrected Poe automatically.

Rey clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Now is not the time for semantics.”

“I don't know, Rey, it _is_ a pretty important distinction,” offered Finn uncertainly.

“Thank you, Finn!” chirped Poe, clearly pleased.

Rey rolled her eyes ostentatiously, and Hux decided he disliked her the least out of the trio. At least she seemed to have _some_ kind of head on her shoulders, but they were still all so horrifically... _young_ – carelessly running their mouths, and simply enjoying each other's company even in their current situation. Suddenly feeling old, and not appreciating it one bit, Hux experienced a strong sense of solidarity with the adults, which at the moment included even Kylo Ren.

“There's no robots here,” he said curtly. “Or droids.”

“We know Kylo Ren took it,” replied Rey, tipping her chin defiantly.

Admittedly quite impressed, Hux let his mouth form a lazy smirk. “Why don't you go to the police, then? Of course, there is no point now, with your pathetic attempt at breaking and entering, but out of sheer curiosity...?”

Rey clenched her jaw, finally admitting defeat, and looked falteringly at Poe, who Hux suspected to be behind the entire plan – he seemed like the type to think that stealing back what had been stolen was a better idea than taking a proper, lawful course of action. Hux was about to gloat, when Finn theatrically sighed in exasperation, catching everyone's attention.

“He's Leia Organa's son, dude, I thought you were his _boyfriend_ , don't you know _anything?_ ”

Hux was taken aback by so many things in that sorry excuse for a sentence, he didn't even know where to start. First of all, just because he lived at the same address as Kylo Ren, he was automatically his significant other? An assumption personally offensive to Hux, for one, not to mention incredibly immature of Finn.

Secondly, an illegitimate son of a politician? That simultaneously explained _a lot_ about Kylo, and seemed almost too cliche to actually be real. Hux immediately wanted to know who Kylo's father was, as he distinctly remembered Leia Organa not being married – it had to be someone so unsuitable, that he was possibly the best-kept secret in the state.

“He didn't know,” said Rey slowly, reading Hux easily.

“Yeah, Finn, that's probably just his housemate,” added Poe, wincing.

Finn's eyes widened in terror, as he gulped audibly. “Guys, Kylo is going to kill me. I am officially a dead man. First I turn from a supporter to a traitor, and now this. He is going to _annihilate_ me.”

Hux was willing to agree, but he didn't have a chance, as Phasma appeared out of nowhere, holding at least four full shopping bags, and simply stood there, regarding the group silently for a very long moment. Hux was the only one not staring blatantly, still mulling over what he'd just learned, and someone, most likely Finn, gasped when Phasma finally moved.

“Are they staying for dinner?” she asked evenly, and it was all it took to send the kids running for their lives.

* * *

Hux never mentioned the entire affair to Kylo, but not because he was still cross. It was never a fight with them – children fought, they simply interacted the only way they knew how. Hux didn't want Kylo holding back on him just because he thought he owed him. That would disrupt their status quo, and Hux rather liked their dynamics – they judged and cut each other, but there was a refreshing honesty in it that strangers couldn't offer.

Hux wasn't fazed when he finally found Phasma in The Finalizer and discovered Kylo sitting at their table. It wasn't a shock that she extended the invitation, or that she didn't warn Hux, and it wasn't surprising that Kylo accepted – he was, after all, a lonely man. Smiling wryly, Hux sat down opposite of Kylo, making sure Phasma felt his foot connect with her ankle under the table.

“Hello, Kylo,” he offered. “You do realize that what we do here is talk politics, and drink ourselves unconscious to forget about the quarterly meetings with our families?”

It wasn't entirely true, not recently, as more often than not, Hux talked at length about Kylo himself. Phasma was blessedly silent, loyal to the end, even when Hux made blatantly questionable choices – he knew Kylo was intelligent enough to realize that putting politics and family in one sentence was Hux's way of informing him that he knew who Kylo's mother was.

“I'll try to keep up,” said Kylo, voice straining, probably with the urge to scream.

Hux smirked. “Well then. First round is on you.”

“We already had the first round,” offered Phasma innocently, shattering Hux's opinion on her impeccable loyalty. “And second.”

“Yes, well,” muttered Hux, clearing his throat. “I don't suspect Kylo here would stand me completely sober.”

Even though it seemed odd at first glance, Hux did understand the quiet rapport between Kylo and Phasma. There was something intrinsically defiant about both of them that Hux couldn't relate to, always content to be just one of the cogs in the machine. He liked order and firm structures – the notion of hierarchy, of a ladder he could climb, gave him an illusion of being able to advance with his life.

Phasma was all about proving everyone else wrong, and being her own priority, but she wasn't obnoxious about it – it was all for her benefit only, and no one else had to know. Kylo was somewhat a polar opposite of her in that regard, as he needed everyone to witness and acknowledge his rebellion, but they were clearly cut out from the same non-compliant cloth.

“I suppose I'll buy the next one, then,” he conceded, straining to catch the bartender's attention.

They actually did talk politics for a while, and it was an incredibly absorbing discussion; so much, in fact, that he stayed in the pub alone with Kylo long after Phasma had left. Leia Organa was a liberal's wet dream, and it was fascinating to learn that her son was a some sort of an anarchist, and not even a committed one. He didn't care about the world leaders, but he believed they were in power because they earned it – the only clear-cut worldview Kylo seemed to have was that the survival of the fittest applied to every aspect of life.

“You'll never get anywhere if you don't fight for it,” he claimed. “If you want something, you have to take it by force. It's really simple.”

“Is this why you are a leader of an unknown band with no real prospects for the future? Because you _fought_ for it?”

Kylo sneered. “At least I'm fighting. You just follow orders.”

“I also have people who follow _my_ orders. And it puts food on the table.”

“I'm not starving either.”

Hux hummed thoughtfully. “I've always just assumed you were prostituting yourself.”

Kylo growled, which made heat coil in the pit of Hux's stomach; the combination of copious amounts of alcohol and thought-provoking hostility was arousing enough on its own without Kylo Ren making indecent noises within Hux's immediate earshot. Before either of them could impulsively act on their respective eros and thanatos, Hux decided to continue his previous line of thought.

“I'm a part of something solid,” he said, staring at Kylo intently. “You just go through life hoping to make enough fuss to get the attention of people as insignificant as you, in the great scheme of things, of course. You hold plenty of significance for many people, I am sure.”

Kylo was silent for a moment, and Hux wondered why he hadn't flipped the table yet, and physically assaulted him – he was clearly aggravated by Hux's carefully-maintained air of superiority, and possibly frustrated with the overall pointlessness of their debate. Perhaps Kylo's knew angle was to keep appearances of self-control in order to unnerve Hux into stooping to his level and finally snapping.

“This is bullshit,” decided Kylo suddenly, wetting his lips. “I need another drink.”

Hux was slightly taken aback, but not in a bad way. Of course, he realistically knew Kylo Ren had to be more than simply a poor impulse-control personified, but it was surprisingly nice to actually see the proof of that. Hux ordered another round of drinks, and decided to spend the rest of the night doing what he did best, which was testing Kylo Ren's limits.

* * *

It actually took Hux three days to notice there was something amiss. All that mattered to him was that the droid found its way out of the apartment one way or another, and that the hole in the wall had finally been fixed, but with their disappearance, so did Kylo Ren. Hux was baffled at first, by the silence, and the emptiness, and most of all, the utter lack of relief he was expecting to feel once he realized Kylo was gone. It was unsettling, and genuinely surprising, but the two things that Kylo's absence allowed Hux were a reason and time to _think._

He'd long forgotten ever hoping that Kylo Ren would someday move out, and once he finally did, Hux realized it was no longer something he actually wanted. He had gotten used to Kylo's presence, and it became almost as reassuring as Phasma's, even if in a completely different way. There was no point denying that Kylo Ren had become a significant part of Hux's life, and his absence was simply strange. He hadn't _hated_ Kylo for a long time, and despite what he kept telling Phasma, or himself, Hux was more drawn to him than he felt comfortable admitting to anyone. Perhaps it was sheer exposure, but Hux started caring about Kylo, in his own way.

The absolute worst was the realization that he honestly believed Kylo cared about him too, even though he often deliberately tried to tell himself otherwise, afraid of what it could mean. It was easier to doubt Kylo's intentions, refuse to look underneath the cruel words and snap reactions, and see that Hux was important to him as well. They were both too proud for their own good, and they were both alone again, but Hux didn't feel heartbroken about it – he was too cynical to be anything but bitter.

However, it was rather simple, really, as Hux concluded. He and Kylo disliked each other, mostly, but they were both pragmatic enough to know that caring about someone had nothing to do with something as trivial and unreliable as affection. They were both people with carefully-built walls they didn't want torn down, and certainly not in the name of some ridiculous notion like romance. In their own unusual way, they had a rather good, committed relationship; the only thing Hux could think of that could have improved it was sex. Hux _really_ missed sex.

“You miss him,” observed Phasma three days into his brooding.

Hux only shrugged. “I do. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, but I do.”

Her eyes widened slightly, as she clearly didn't expect him to just admit it. Hux couldn't help reflexively smirking in triumph, as everything was competition to him, but it disappeared as quickly. Phasma regarded him in silence for a while, her lips a thin, unmoving line, but her eyebrows expressed and array of emotions, from surprise, to worry, to determination – Hux didn't like the last one.

“Come on, General. We're going out.”

Hux sighed, not feeling like it in the slightest, but opposing Phasma was utterly pointless, as she could physically carry him out, and put him right where she wanted, and Hux wouldn't be able to do anything about it, except making indignant noises that would only draw the unwanted attention of the public to them more. Resigned, he followed Phasma, assuming she would opt for getting completely drunk at The Finalizer, but it soon became clear it wasn't their destination, and Hux quickly figured it out.

“You are not taking me to the damn Battle of the Bands,” he announced, appalled.

“Don't you want to see Kylo Ren lose to a group of children?”

The answer was no. “Of course I do. But I am perfectly content just _hearing_ about it.”

“I didn't take you for a coward, General.”

“I didn't take you for a manipulator, and a poor one. We clearly do the whole friendship thing wrong... _Fine,”_ he concede finally. “But if he laughs at me for showing up, you will have to defend my honor and punch him.”

The corners of Phasma's mouth turned upward. “He is more likely to run off the stage out of fear of losing face while you watched.”

He knew it was her idea of a joke, and he offered her a feeble smile, but he hated to imagine Kylo thinking Hux was just like the rest of the world, having expectations that Kylo would never want to meet, when he didn't even know his real name; Kylo surely had no expectations of him. Thus, the idea of Hux attending the ridiculous competition would probably never occur to Kylo. It never crossed Hux's mind, for that matter. It could be, however, the right step to take, if Hux ever decided to finally disrupt their status quo.

* * *

Snoke was even older and uglier than Hux remembered him, and his ability to instill fearful respect in Hux seemed even greater. They didn't interact beyond exchanging nods, for which Hux was grateful, as he couldn't think of anything to say, except commenting on how out of place Snoke seemed in the club. When he thought about, neither he nor Phasma blended in particularly well either, both appearing exceptionally old and boring.

Hux _felt_ exactly like that when he decided he couldn't survive the night sober, simply because The Resistance came up on the stage, and he had never in his life heard so much _noise_. People went completely wild because of three kids and a beeping robot, and it terrified Hux, the raw power that a mindless mob could generate. He also couldn't imagine Knights of Ren evoking a reaction even half as enthusiastic.

The Resistance turned out to be an interesting band, with music that could have the potential to become popular quickly – Hux hated them immediately. They gave a very good show, judging by the crowd's response, and if Hux understood the rules of the contest correctly, they were sure to win, unless Knights of Ren were hiding a legion of devoted supporters somewhere. Phasma was nowhere to be seen, and Hux was starting to feel nervous.

He didn't want Kylo to lose.

Knights of Ren wore masks on stage, which was a cute idea, and a lot of people seemed excited for their performance, but Hux was a pessimist, or rather a realist, which was essentially the same thing nowadays, and he couldn't help but worry about the outcome. He also hoped Kylo Ren wouldn't notice him in the crowd, scowling and discouraging – there was clearly something wrong with Hux, and he needed to amend that, preferably with alcohol.

He knew a couple of songs from before, but they affected him more now, as he had gotten to know Kylo better. It was a decent show as well, even if in a different manner, but The Resistance clearly spoke to the masses, while Knights of Ren targeted individuals. Hux was still infuriatingly sober enough to be able to rationalize his anxiety, and it was even more exhausting than the anticipation of the verdict.

Of course, The Resistance won, and so Hux waited for Kylo.

He didn't look for him, but he could hear, almost _feel_ his rage and disappointment, and he briefly wondered when rolling his eyes stopped being his immediate instinct. When Kylo finally came out, the rest of his band long gone, his clothes, hair, and face were damp with sweat. He didn't look surprised to see Hux; the pained grimace he was wearing turned into a wry smile when their eyes met. Hux mirrored his expression.

“Done gloating?” asked Kylo, his voice hoarse.

“Done throwing a tantrum?”

Kylo's smirk reached his eyes then, and Hux relaxed. They sat down on the stage, not speaking for what felt like eternity, staring at their knees, or the dirty floor, or whatever was in sight that allowed them to avoid eye contact with each other. They were both terrible that this, whatever it was, and all Hux could think about was the ways he might ask Kylo to move back in without actually asking him to do that.

“I didn't move out,” said Kylo suddenly, as if seeing inside Hux's mind. “Took the week to practice.”

Hux could feel his eyes widen, and his face heat up in mortification. “And you didn't think to say anything because...?”

“Didn't think you'd care.”

It took Hux a moment to realize the game Kylo was playing, and it caused every muscle in his body to tense. So that was it – the biggest cliche of them all, the pompous moment when they talked about feelings, and their romance reached its climax, or maybe its end, before ever beginning. Hux was not ready for that, and would never be, because it would be undignified no matter what.

“You did it only so you could say that, didn't you.”

Kylo waited a moment. “So you could say you did. Care.”

Apparently, Kylo Ren was beyond ready for that, and his words sounded as pathetic as Hux knew they would; the only more pitiful thing was Hux's accelerating heartbeat. In all honesty, his mind was blank, beyond the searing certainty he was not going to say what Kylo wanted him to – it wasn't like he needed to hear the words. Kylo was only testing Hux, and the only appropriate response would be to test him back.

“What's your real name?” he asked.

Kylo exhaled sharply. “Ben. Ben Solo.”

Hux let that sink in as he took a deep breath. Then he stood up, and finally turned to Kylo to meet his gaze. It was much more intense than the situation warranted, so Hux rolled his eyes before holding out his hand, flicking his writs impatiently when Kylo simply stared at it in confusion instead of taking it.

“Come on, Kylo. Let's go home.”

 


End file.
